


binding light

by jehans



Series: it's for you [21]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehans/pseuds/jehans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac knows how much of an absolutely terrible tease Jehan can be when he wants to, so his mind is racing through what he could have possibly done that would make Jehan want to punish him when Jehan’s hands slip all the way down his back and into his jeans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	binding light

**Author's Note:**

> Jehan/Courf bondage fic is all.

Courfeyrac isn’t sure whether the smile on Jehan’s face tonight as he sits on Courfeyrac’s lap and kisses and kisses and kisses his face and mouth is intriguing or terrifying. It’s a different smile than he normally gives while pressing sweet, loving kisses against his boyfriend’s skin. It’s calculating.

It’s scheming.

And Courfeyrac knows how much of an absolutely terrible tease Jehan can be when he wants to, so his mind is racing through what he could have possibly done that would make Jehan want to punish him when Jehan’s hands slip all the way down his back and into his jeans.

“Heart of mine?” Jehan murmurs between gentle kisses.

“Yes, dearest?” Courfeyrac answers warily, shivering at the way Jehan’s fingers skim over the skin of his lower back.

“Do you want to do something for me tonight, lovely one?” Jehan asks, trailing the tip of his tongue lightly up Courfeyrac’s temple.

Courfeyrac gasps. “Anything,” he sighs, but he still feels a thrill of wariness. This could be very, very interesting.

Jehan pulls back and positively grins at Courfeyrac. “Do you want to tie me up?” he asks in a breathy rush, his eyebrows lifting slightly as he bites down on his flushed lower lip in what might be some concern for how Courfeyrac will react.

And how he reacts is to sputter and cough and try to blink his thoughts into some order before the thought of his little love in bonds gives him a serious problem of a boner.

“Courfeyrac?”

“I — do you want me to?” Courfeyrac gasps.

Jehan smiles shyly and nods, face turning pink. “Only if you want to,” he assured him hurriedly.

“Oh, I — I want to —” Courfeyrac splutters and Jehan grins again and stops his stuttering by kissing him full on the mouth again.

“Good,” he purrs. “I know we haven’t prepared or anything, but I did happen to bring a rather nice silk cord with me, and —”

“Are you going to be okay?” Courfeyrac asks, cutting through this spiel.

“Yes,” Jehan breathes, smiling sweetly. “I love you desperately, Courfeyrac, and I trust you completely. You know me, you’ll know if I need you to stop.”

“Maybe we should have a safe word or something just in case,” Courfeyrac suggests, his hands constricting on Jehan’s thighs as Jehan brushes fingers over the back of his neck.

Jehan nods. “All right,” he says. “How about ‘Yeats’?”

“It has to be something you won’t actually say during sex,” Courfeyrac chuckles and Jehan gasps.

“I have never said ‘Yeats’ during sex!”

“No, but you did say ‘Neruda’ once.”

Jehan goes from pink to bright red, but he giggles.

Courfeyrac leans forward and kisses Jehan’s nose. “You’re sure you want this?” he whispers.

Jehan’s fingers slip up into coppery curls and he lets out a gust of hot air. “ _Yes_ ,” he breathes. And that’s it.

They pick a safe word and Jehan pulls the cord he brought with him out of his bag, handing to to Courfeyrac with a sure kiss to his lips. And then Courfeyrac starts taking Jehan’s clothes off.

He goes slowly, lovingly peeling away every item and leaving kisses in their stead. Jehan shivers and stands still and clings to Courfeyrac’s shoulders, to his hair, until he’s undressed and completely undone. Courfeyrac keeps mouthing at Jehan’s neck as he reaches out for the cord, which he’d deposited on the couch next to them, and then, gently, he turns Jehan around.

Jehan gasps a little at the first sensation of that cord around his wrists, already _really fucking turned on_. Courfeyrac’s hands are trembling and Jehan can tell so he stretches his hands behind him and laces his fingers through Courfeyrac’s, pressing his hands reassuringly.

When Jehan’s wrists are securely bound together and Courfeyrac starts winding the cord around Jehan’s body, he actually moans a little and tilts his head back until it rests against Courfeyrac’s shoulder. It’s the loss of control — it’s willingly giving that control to Courfeyrac, the love of his entire life — that feels so sensual, so salacious. Courfeyrac hums a little and presses his lips to Jehan’s jaw.

“All right?” he asks breathily.

Jehan’s breathing has gotten shallower the harder he’s become and he makes a sort of groany sound of want. “All right,” he confirms in a whisper. “Fuck me, Courfeyrac. _Please._ ”

He can feel Courfeyrac’s smile against his cheek. “Patience, little love,” he breathes. “I promise you’ll get yours.”

Tied up tight now, Jehan is being spun around again by Courfeyrac’s now steady hands, fingers are slipped through the loops of his ropes, and Courfeyrac physically pulls him into the bedroom, suddenly slamming their mouths together to kiss him fiercely, biting down lightly on his lower lip. Jehan gasps into this, then loses his breath entirely as Courfeyrac practically throws him onto the bed.

He wants to scoot himself further up onto the bed, but only his feet are free now and he can’t get traction. Besides, he’s so _hard_ he can barely do anything but writhe and cant his hips upward.

Courfeyrac looks like he might devour Jehan whole, like his own lust is setting his entire soul on fire. He climbs up over Jehan and curls a hand around that cord again to pull his poet up off the bed to kiss him again.

“ _Please_ , Courfeyrac,” Jehan soughs through his teeth against his boyrfriend’s mouth. He’d clutch Courfeyrac’s shirt with his hands, rip off all his clothes with his teeth until he’s naked and trembling and _fucking him_ , but Jehan is bound and helpless and _hard hard hard_. 

Courfeyrac smirks, a lock of hair falling into his eyes, and starts kissing Jehan’s neck to his chest to his stomach, all the way down until he plucks a necktie off the floor (one of his own, discarded last night when Jehan was ripping at his clothes and kissing him to oblivion and subtly in control like he always is — always, until now) and pulls himself back up over his Jehan to tie it over his eyes.

Jehan starts making whimpering noises, hips and shoulders writhing against the bed, and all too quickly, Courfeyrac’s jeans are way too tight, his breathing too heavy. The muscles of Jehan’s body are stretching and tensing as his lean, little body twists against the mattress.

“Fuck — _fuck me_ ,” Jehan gasps and stutters, begging in earnest now. “ _Please_ , I want you in me — _fuck_.”

Courfeyrac groans and fumbles with his own jeans, sucking gently on Jehan’s collarbone and eliciting a full-throated cry from the wordsmith. He strips his shirt off while he’s kicking his pants off and Jehan is just hissing _touch me, please, touch me_ over and over again. Then it’s just a matter of freeing himself from his boxers and it’s skin against quivering skin as Jehan arches himself off the bed to try to blindly find Courfeyrac’s mouth with his. Courfeyrac meets him halfway.

When lips give way to teeth, he pulls way again and Jehan lets out almost a shriek of want. But Courfeyrac is digging in his drawer and then grabbing hold of Jehan’s ties again to flip them both until he’s sitting up on the bed, curled against the pillows, with Jehan is his lap, knees on either side of Courfeyrac’s hips as he arches his back, tilts his head to offer up the pale skin of his neck and lets out a trembling “ _Pleeaase!_ ”

And finally — _finally_ — Courfeyrac’s hand is slipping between them and under until slicked fingers press at Jehan’s entrance. Jehan pushes down onto his fingers, squirming and twisting and _pleading_ and Courfeyrac presses wild, wet kisses to his rope-bound chest. When he crooks his fingers to brush Jehan’s sweet spot, the noise the poet makes sounds more faerie creature than human.

Fingers vanish only to be quickly replaced and Jehan, usually relatively quiet during sex, actually _screams_ (Courfeyrac is once again incredibly glad Enjolras is spending the night at Grantaire’s). Courfeyrac snaps his hips up and Jehan presses his down the best he can while being bound so completely and they find their rhythm like they always do.

Jehan is louder than he’s ever been, moaning and whimpering and gasping, _harder, please, harder._ Courfeyrac just keeps murmuring, _I love you so much, I just adore you, I love you,_ until he can’t speak, can’t breathe anymore.

Jehan thinks he must see stars and the whole universe and he comes, screaming his lover’s name, and Courfeyrac is with him, one in body and heart and soul. They slump against each other, gasping for air, only trying to breathe, and Courfeyrac whispers again how much he loves, he loves.

Finally, Jehan sighs and falls sideways into Courfeyrac’s arm. Courfeyrac lays more kisses into his skin as he slips his arms around his love to undo the knots and free him from his bonds.

Jehan can’t even move on his own anymore, so Courfeyrac lays him down on the bed, then unties the tie around his eyes as well.  He lies down next to Jehan — who blinks in the dim light and smiles weakly but happily at him — and takes his hands to bring pale, slender wrists to his lips, then ducks over Jehan’s body, pressing kisses to every red mark left by silk.

Jehan’s fingers find their way back into Courfeyrac’s hair. “Thank you,” he breathes. “That was _amazing_.”

Courfeyrac’s eyes lift to meet his and he grins. “I love you so goddamn much,” he replies simply.

“Did you enjoy it?” Jehan asks, his voice small and tired and happy, as Courfeyrac grabs a towel from under the bed (where he’s started keeping them) to clean them both off, then tosses it away and curls in next to Jehan, who clings as hard as he can to him.

“It was _amazing_ ,” Courfeyrac echoes. Jehan grins.

They settle into each other, lying like they want to occupy each other’s bodies and live in the same space. Courfeyrac continues to press gentle kisses into Jehan’s skin, and Jehan tries to return them, but he’s already falling asleep.

Right before he dozes off, Jehan pipes up, “Next time we should try that hook on your ceiling.”

Courfeyrac bursts out laughing.


End file.
